Nature's Miracle removes pet odors from carpets and upholstery. Itʼs a good product but letʼs be honest, what it does - not really a miracle.

Iʼm not saying removing urine odor is easy. But doing something the rest of us canʼt do doesnʼt automatically elevate it to miracle status. According to Wikipedia, a miracle is a "divine intervention by God in the Universe by which the ordinary course and operation of Nature is overruled, suspended, or modified."; In other words, turning water into wine or raising the dead. Maybe even getting all those clowns into one car. But pouring something onto cat piss and making the room no longer smell like cat piss? Sorry. Application for sainthood rejected.

You donʼt have to be a believer to know that Jesus is considered the number one miracle worker. Heʼs like the Michael Jordan of Unexplained Stuff. So you would think that if removing pet odors was worthy of miracle status, Jesus would have done that too, right? After all, he did all the other stuff. Doesnʼt the fact that Jesus DIDNʼT get rid of animal piss smells tell us something about its lack of status as a miraculous endeavor? Nowhere in the bible does it say, "And Jesus pourth the liquid onto the urine and it was good."

Calling it Natureʼs Miracle cheapens real miracles. I urge you to write to the company and suggest they change the name to something less provocative like Natureʼs Cool Trick or Natureʼs Thing That YOU Canʼt Do; Feel free to come up with your own. These are just suggestions.

And for the record, I will be writing to the Miracle Whip people next.

In the interests of science, the author has chosen to eat nothing but Whiskas Temptations for 30 straight days and chronicle the effects on my body and well- being.

The rules are as follows: 1) He will only eat Whiskas Temptations cat treats. 2) He will eat as many treats as the woman who feeds me offers. 3) He will try each flavor of Whiskas Temptations at least once.

DAY 7 I'm eating between four to seven times a day. It depends how many times I feel like going to the cupboard and screaming. The woman who feeds me doesnʼt seem to grasp that this is a scientific experiment and not just me being finicky.

Sheʼs not very bright. When she finally did absorb the parameters of this diet (I only eat Whiskas Tempations, nothing else), she tried just pouring a pile of their Seafood Medley in my bowl. It took almost three hours of whining before she figured out that cat treats donʼt get eaten unless theyʼre fed individually, by hand. Itʼs not about the food as much as about the power trip of ordering somebody less intelligent than you to cater to your whims.

Anyway, I donʼt know what they put into these babies but Man, they are good. In fact, I might just go get some more right now.

DAY 14 The woman who feeds me has taken to calling me Tummy Tummy Wumpkins. Okay, I admit Iʼve gained a few ounces-- Fine. Pounds. But I feel fantastic. Iʼve got energy. LOTS of energy. I donʼt sleep much but Iʼm not missing it, yʼknow? Iʼm feeling good. Really...fantastic.

I have a new cardio thing Iʼm addicted to: I start in one room, then, without picking a destination, leave the room as quickly as possible. Once Iʼve accelerated to top speed, I turn quickly into the first opening I see. Then, as soon as Iʼm in whatever the new space is, I sprint clockwise around the perimeter two-and-a-half times, stop, bathe for eight seconds, and then sprint counter-clockwise. Thatʼs it. I do at least three circuits like that in the morning and five in the evening. Itʼs weird - youʼd think Iʼd be getting faster but each day my time seems to get longer.

Iʼve also found no matter how much I bathe myself, my coat seems to smell of motor oil. My trips to the box seem less frequent. Mostly number one. It burns a little and smells like sulfur but that passes before Iʼm done scraping litter over the edge of the box. My coat has seen shinier days, thatʼs for sure. Youʼd think something that smells so much of motor oil wouldnʼt be so dry.

Iʼve also noticed a couple of missing tufts near the base of my tail. Might be related to the itching Iʼve been experiencing... Wait. Iʼm sorry. I lost track of what I was saying. My favorite favor is Liver & Beef Medley. I get hungry just saying the name. I feel like eating again.

DAY 21My trips to the box seem less frequent. Mostly number one. It burns a little and smells like sulfur but that passes before Iʼm done scraping litter over the edge of the box. My coat has seen shinier days, thatʼs for sure. Youʼd think something that smells so much of motor oil wouldnʼt be so dry. Iʼve also noticed a couple of missing tufts near the base of my tail. Might be related to the itching Iʼve been experiencing... Wait. Iʼm sorry. I lost track of what I was saying. My favorite favor is Liver & Beef Medley. I get hungry just saying the name. I feel like eating again.

DAY 30 It's over! Thirty days of eating nothing but Whiskas Temptations. I have to admit, it hasnʼt been so hard. In fact, I could see continuing to eat them. The only real tough patch were the five days in a row that my only choices were Savory Salmon or Hairball Control. That was a living hell. As you know, I hate Salmon. It sucks when you want to puke and half of what youʼve been eating is anti-nausea medication. Also when my vet looked at my blood work and said Itʼs hard to believe anything with sodium levels this high is still alive. Not something you say in front of a cat who now has chest pains and shortness of breath. Talk about bedside manner!

And the weight thing, of course. Iʼm not thrilled about that. When I began this experiment, I weighed ten pounds, three ounces. I now tip the scale at seventeen point two and no longer fit under the sofa. Hell, I barely make it under the coffee table. Plus my litterbox is no longer a source of comfort and relief. Itʼs now just a place I try to squeeze a tennis ball down a garden hose. Iʼve also lost interest in bathing, purring and clawing expensive furniture.

This is difficult to write. And Iʼm not just talking about the actual typing. I mean emotionally. I know the rap on me is that Iʼm a cold fish. Perhaps. But beneath my arched back and disdainful look beats a tender heart. A heart that can only take so much.Itʼs clear that since that fateful day last August when you came back from Dog Rescue with Buster, I have become a second class resident around here. As you know, I donʼt find joy in speaking ill of others but I cannot stand that dog!True, I donʼt have his personality - I refuse to lick your faces, I donʼt retrieve tennis balls and I canʼt bring myself to spin around in crazy circles at mealtime. Fair enough. On the other hand, I groom myself, cover up my cat box leavings and donʼt hump the legs of dinner guests. Does that not carry any weight?Every weekend you take him to the dog park to watch in glee as he drags his itchy ass across the lawn and chases squirrels up the sycamore tree. (Ones he never actually catches Iʼd like to point out.) I however, a real hunter, bring you a dead mouse and whatʼs your reaction? Run screaming!I will not bore you with my entire laundry list of Busterʼs slights. Suffice to say, I cannot take this favoritism any longer. I will be leaving. Out of respect for the many years weʼve had together, I felt I owed you an explanation as to why.If you have a change of heart and realize that I deserve a larger percentage of your attention than that smelly ball of drool, feel free to get in touch with me. Iʼll be under the Toyota.